


173rd Airborne Brigade

by Mekachu04



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: 173rd Airborne Brigade, A Shau Valley, Gen, M/M, Military, Sick!Klaus, Vietnam War, comic power referenced, death of original / background characters, ill!Klaus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 06:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18404600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mekachu04/pseuds/Mekachu04
Summary: a glimpse into some of the strangeness to happen to the 173rd Airborne Brigade in 1968





	173rd Airborne Brigade

The new guy was already in the infirmary.

 

They'd found him passed out next to the clerks office; pulse weak and body cold.

 

Really, really cold. The doc had to treat him for hypothermia.

 

Now, there had been all kinds of weirdness cropping up since they'd been stationed here, but Hargreeves was weird beyond anything Glaser had previously witnessed, either here or back home. The man appearing a month in from literally no where had to take the cake. No gear, no tags, and no records to prove he existed anywhere. But Katz and Winchester seemed to take a liking to the man, and while he was a jittery, talkative mother fucker; he was far from the biggest liability they had.

 

At least until the hypothermia. 

 

How the hell does somebody nearly freeze to death in the rain-forest?

 

Regardless, he pulled through, and the only body shipped home that day was Anderson.

 

-

 

Mail delivery was hectic at best, but whoever they'd had to leave behind was pretty good about reaching out to touch base. Maybe you'd only get a letter once a week - maybe only once a month, but eventually, you heard from home.

 

Sometimes, you even got a care package. It was a fine line of what to share, what to lord over your fellow soldiers, and what to hide away before somebody guilted you into sharing.  Starsky got one today, and he'd been pounced on by a nosy Carrigan and Hargreeves as he tried to open it in private. 

 

Carrigan at least kept his hands to himself, but Hargreaves was touchy as hell, was mostly undressed, and draped over poor Starsky. The man had no concept of person space nor an inclining of modesty, much less any sense of shame. He crowded anybody and everybody, hands on shoulders or arms at every opportunity; no matter how much or little someone (or himself) was wearing at the time. He took nothing seriously, made gallows humour jokes at every turn, and managed his way into the group like he'd been there since the start.

 

He was both the absolute WORSE shot in the group, yet when he did hit something it was a perfect head shot every time. Katz had been working with him since the day he'd poofed himself into camp, and he learned quick, but it was like he'd completely skipped boot camp all together! The CO had been furious, but the mad bastard had actually begged to stay! Who the hell WANTED to be here? The CO hadn't fought it very hard, as long as Hargreeves didn't become a liability. He'd lost enough men that sneaking in another would be worth the risk. Hargreeves could strip and reassemble his gun on par with the rest of them at this point, and he'd hit every target they'd set up for him. Now if only they could get him to stop shooting at thin air when they where actually in the field.

 

Three months after Hargreaves dropped in on them, Glaser was pouring over a letter from his mom and he froze as a thought came to mind. Hargreeves hadn't gotten a single letter yet. Hadn't even looked like he was waiting on one either.

 

-

 

Morgan didn't make it back this time.

 

Starsky had shoved Hargreeves when they made it back. The ass went on talking like Morgan was still standing right next to them and Katz had to intervene before it came to real blows. Hargreeves skulked off for a bit after that, back to muttering to himself in that way he seems to do when he actually does get sober. It creeps them all out, even more so when they realise that he's clean when he gets like this. No one should WANT the guy that is supposed to watch their back high, but damn; Hargreeves is barely tolerable when he's dopesick.  Katz is the only one who seems to be able to not sock the junkie, and even he'd walking a fine line on that.

 

They find him passed out next to the clerks office again. He's ice cold.

 

This time, he ain't breathing when they first find him. 

 

The medic has no explanation for it. CO's ready to ship him home once he's breathing and warmed up again, but the first thing out of Hargreeves' mouth is to beg the man to let him stay.

 

How fucked up is home that dying over here is the better option? Starsky warns him to watch his mouth, but accepts the hand on his arm as Hargreeves shuffles back to his bunk once infirmary lets him out.

 

-

 

Glaser's halfway though his tour, and he can't even keep count of Hargreeves' weird sick spells at this point. They're loading back on the bus, and the skinny bastard's laughing his way down the aisle; grabby hands petting heads and shoulders of everyone on his way to his seat. He must have started celebrating early, because he falls like a drunk into the seat next to Glaser before Katz pulling him back to his feet. Hargreeves' tattooed 'Hello' reads from the his hand as he makes an aborted 'sorry' motion before ambling back to his seat.

 

Most of the guys head straight for the showers once they're dismissed; Glaser found himself sitting on his bunk instead, looking around the empty tent. The world seemed far away at that moment, and he's just tired of it all.

 

Hargreeves sits gingerly on the cot next to him. The fact that he was quiet right now just sets the whole world more off kilter.

 

"I don't.. I don't know what to do," He admits.

 

Hargreeves nods, and Glaser can see now he'd got a pad of paper on his lap, and the brightest yellow pencil he's ever seen. "When did you write home last?"

 

Glaser shrugged, "Been a little bit."

 

"Anything you wanted to say still?"

 

" I dunno, man..."

 

Hargreeves fiddles with the pencil, looking over his shoulder to the empty doorway, before turning back to Glaser. "Paul, you... You can't stay here. You can't WANT to stay here, right?"

 

"You gonna get me home, Hargreeves?"

 

"Never learned how to do that one on command. But I can help, I think. And I WANT to help. Paul, I WANT to help this time."

 

Time seems frozen, not a sound outside of the gentle tapping of the pencil to the paper

 

"I uh....My mom.. I haven't had time to write her back recently..."

 

Hargreeves nods. Don't bring up fathers around the guy; but moms, yeah, he can understand that. "You're gonna have to write quick, I still can't hold it long. you ready?"

 

Glaser has no idea what he means, but he nods none the less. There's a faint blue.... warmth to Hargreeves hands, and Glaser didn't realise just how cold it was until right then, because now he's warm. He takes a deep breath, like he hasn't had one in ages. Maybe not ages, but at least a day.

 

The pad's in his lap, pencil in his hand. Before he can give it much thought, he puts his feelings on to the paper, pouring out every little thing he every wanted to tell his folks that he thought he'd get a chance to tell them face to face.

 

/Don't forget an address, Glaser. I need an address./

 

He scribbled it on the envelope tucked behind the last sheets, hands starting to shake. 

 

/Okay man, I got it./

 

But Glaser's on his feet, shoving the letter in the envelope before Hargreeves can stop him, and running to the clerk's office. His heart pounding in his ears is deafening, easily overshadowing the faint frantic voice of Hargreeves demanding control back.

 

No, Paul can't stop until that letter is out of this camp. He can't stop now. He has to get this letter to his folks. To his mom! 

 

The cold's coming back now, not numb like before, but painful. He's got to get this to his mom before he can't move!

 

Farah's the company clerk on duty right now, and he's quick to his feet when Glaser comes in, "Hargreeves, man, are you sick again?"

 

It's so cold. It hurts too much! He can't breath again. Can't get the words out! Hargreeves hasn't said anything for a while now either.

 

He hands Farah the letter. At least, he thinks he does. Because as he holds it out, his vision warps, the colour bleeding out of the world. The last thing he sees is the 'bye' peeking out from under the envelope in his hand.

 

Then he sees Farah yelling for help, moving quickly to start chest compressions on the unresponsive Hargreeves lying at his feet. The blue around his fingers isn't a light this time, but a darkening stain on frozen skin. 

 

Glaser sees the others now, as the living members of his company rush to try and resuscitate Hargreeves. Guys who died before they all got stationed here, some of the VC that followed them back, even some of the ARVN who'd fallen before their company had moved in at all. Past them.... civilians. 

 

Glaser was one of the prettier ones hanging around; he hadn't been torn apart by mines or shrapnel; just a couple chest shots. 

 

-

 

Hargreeves was buried on the bed with what looked like every blanket in camp, only the tops of his curls still visible. Glaser hovered nearby, wringing his hands, but keeping his distance. Seems like the doc's equipment didn't like him all that much.

 

The pile moved then mumbled. Glaser peered into the mess to see one tired eye squinting back at him, "Hargreeves?"

 

The man manoeuvred a hand out of the pile, the 'hello' tattooed palm flashing him briefly.

 

The door opens, and they both look over to see Katz peaking in, "Klaus, you awake?"

 

The 'hello' waves at him, and Glaser watches Katz grin back at him, both fond and exasperated. The only healthy man in the room crosses the space with ease, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking Hargreeves' free hand in his own. "I don't know why this keeps happening to you Klaus, but babe, you have got to stop."

 

"Not sure I know how." his voice is wrecked and weak, but he manages a soft smile.

 

Katz runs a hand though Hargreeves' hair, leaning over to brush a kiss to the other's forehead, and Glaser finds himself staring very intently at the doorway.

 

Hargreeves being that way.. actually makes a weird sort of sense - but Katz never seemed like it.

 

Glaser startles, not realising his focus had drifted, as Katz slips back out, leaving him alone with Hargreeves. The man flashed the 'hello' palm a third time, and once Glaser acknowledges him, he pulls his hand back into the warmth of his cocoon. "D... did you finish your letter?"

 

"Did I do that... to you?"

 

"My fault, I'm ... fifteen years outta practice."

 

"Every time you," Glaser shrugs, "Got sick... was it cause of one of us.."

 

Hargreeves looks sad now, but manages a smirk, "I finally shake my moral compass for the first time in a decade and can go back to ignoring you guys guilt free, but the only thing I want is to help you guys... not get stuck... here."

 

"I won't get stuck, "Glaser promises, "I just wanted to make sure you where actually okay. Didn't want to have killed ya. I mean, I think I did for a bit, but here you are."

 

"Here I am."

 

Glaser looks at Hargreeves closely, "Is here really better then home, 'Greeves?"

 

"Light years."

 

Glaser doesn't understand that, but he motioned to the door, "Katz?"

 

Hargreeves shifts again, the left hand coming free this time, "Gonna miss you Glaser, but you need to go,"

 

The man's palm opens, and he waves, 'Good Bye'

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> all OC's are a reference of some kind, so virtual waffle cookies to anybody who figures them out. original title was Blue Comb M10, but i didn't think anyone would read that. i also debated deleting 5 words so the word count would be 1968
> 
> you can find me at sentra04.tumblr.com. thank you to hikaru-9.tumblr.com for giving this once over and helping me get it ready to post.


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